


Respite

by tomatopudding



Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [20]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: Prompt: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420288
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

> Find the the kisses prompt list here.

Of course the lift is broken. It’s the cherry on top of the horrible sundae of the past week. Crowley was tired in a way that surpassed his corporeal form. It was an exhaustion that he could feel deep within his very essence, his demonic energy almost entirely sapped. It was, if you’ll excuse his human analogy, a miracle he was able to stay on his feet at all. Aziraphale, while not quite in the same place considering that he hadn’t had to keep a vintage Bentley from falling to pieces through sheer force of will, had been very recently dis- and recorporated, which was its own special form of energy drain. All this to say that neither of them had enough to spare for a miracle to get up to Crowley’s flat and were faced with the prospect of climbing six flights of stairs. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Aziraphale said in a sort of defeated tone that also seemed resigned, like he should have guessed that this would be the situation.

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, “we could try a hotel?”

Aziraphale was shaking his head even before Crowley finished his suggestions, “No, no. I believe I would prefer somewhere...familiar after all that.”

It made Crowley inordinately pleased to know that Aziraphale considered his flat  _ familiar _ . The angel hadn’t been there more than a handful of times since Crowley had first gotten the place, but apparently that was enough. Or maybe it was Crowley’s presence there that made it familiar. That was a lovely little thought.

“Once more unto the breach,” Aziraphale murmured, beginning the long trek onward and upward.

It was a testament to how tired Crowley was that he couldn’t even bring himself to appreciate the view as he followed Aziraphale up the stairs. Slowly and steadily they climbed and while they didn’t technically need either, their breaths became shorter and sharper and their heartbeats became quicker. About halfway up, Aziraphale came to a sudden halt, leaning back against the wall of the stairwell.

“Bit further,” Crowley encouraged.

“Just a moment, dear,” panted Aziraphale, tipping his head back with a thunk against the wall and closing his eyes.

Crowley settled a couple stairs below, close enough that his shoulder brushed against Aziraphale’s elbow and, after a moment’s hesitation, let his own head come to rest against the angel’s bicep. Aziraphale hummed, making the gentle contact Crowley had initiated stronger by slightly pressing back.

“It’s not over, is it,” Crowley sighed. He was thinking about the final prophecy, the one written on the charred scrap still in Aziraphale’s coat pocket.

“It would be too much to ask, I think,” Aziraphale confirmed. Then, after a moment, “Crowley?”

“Yes, angel.”

Crowley was surprised to feel the fingers of Aziraphale’s other hand on his cheek, trailing gently down to his jaw. He turned his head slightly, allowing his chin to be tilted up towards the angel. He found himself caught in that mercurial gaze, mesmerized by the smile that accompanied. It was all the warning he got before Aziraphale bent down to brush a whisper-soft kiss against his slightly parted lips.

“Whazzat for?” Crowley asked, feeling slightly drunk off that simple bit of contact. 

“Because I can,” replied Aziraphale. He was so close that Crowley could feel the words against his own lips, “Because I want to. Have wanted to.”

“I’ve wanted you to,” Crowley told him oh so quietly, like a secret.

The puff of air from Aziraphale’s huffed laugh was warm.

“It seems to me that we have some lost time to make up for,” Aziraphale said, cradling Crowley’s jaw in his hand and kissing him again.

  
  



End file.
